Tony Stark and the Spider-Kid
by Punzie the Platypus
Summary: Between AoU and Civil War. "Between the guilt over Sokovia, . . . nearly destroying this team [Tony] pretended he could live without but actually couldn't, getting shunned by the love of his life, and trying to figure out a way to recruit this eager, optimistic high school student, he'd been thinking a lot about his parents." AKA how Tony found and decided to recruit Peter.


**_Soli Deo gloria_**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Spider-Man or Iron Man or the Avengers. Or Tarzan. Or George of the Jungle. Or Star Wars. Or YouTube.**

**I just need more Tony and Peter father-son relationship in my life. That's all.**

**Or, how Tony Stark found Peter Parker and decided he was gonna take him under his wing, basically. **

After Sokovia, Tony felt like a piping hot mess. Again.

Sokovia was a freaking trip. His plan started out so great, it was perfect—for once, it wasn't even selfishly motivated. At its core were the simplest, best values—he just wanted to protect the world. He didn't even know what he didn't know was out there—and that was scary. When Iron Man, a guy who took a nuke to the stars and survived his house getting bombed and faced his own inner demons head-on, got scared, you knew it was bad. Did nobody else see that? See how they needed to wrap a shield around the Earth before it got attacked? Just, nobody—nobody listened to him.

Maybe it was for the best. Sometimes, just to himself, Tony thought, "Steve's right. I just made things worse." It was self-sabotage, at the end of the day. Who created this destruction? Wasn't the invading aliens, that was for sure. Nope—it was just Iron Man trying to be proactive and take matters into his own hands instead of taking the reactive and defensive approach Captain America wanted to take—and look how well that turned out.

A city dropped out of the sky. Hundreds, probably thousands (they never got an exact number), dead. Somehow, those stuck out more in Tony's mind than the entire rest of the world being saved from global extinction did. That mattered, yes, but it was what _could _have happened. Those hundreds, probably thousands, were what _did _happen. And so those stuck out in his mind.

Pepper wasn't returning his calls. They had it out the night he flew back, battle-weary, to the Avengers' tower. Everyone else stayed behind to help with relief efforts. Tony couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand the silent judgement in Steve's eyes; he'd deny it every time, but Tony knew it was there just the same. Couldn't stand watching Wanda Maximoff dissolve into sobs when they dragged her brother's body from the wreckage. Couldn't face Clint's hardened face and Natasha's poker face with anguished eyes. So he flew across the Atlantic; exhausted from the fight and crossing the ocean was the perfect time to face an argumentative, freaked-out girlfriend. He wasn't on the top of his game, either. He was relentless. He was frustrated. Pepper didn't understand the _magnitude _of what just happened. Didn't realize how much it was needed, and how it went _so wrong _and how it was just all _his_ fault.

He stood by the floor length windows on the highest floor. Tony Stark of former days would've had a shot rolling around a glass in his hand. Now he just stared down at New York and wondered how he was supposed to move forward after this.

He loved Pepper Potts and she was _so _done with him right now. "Creating an unnecessary genocidal robot, tearing up a European country—when does the self-sabotage stop, Tony?!"

His eyes strayed over to the bar. A drink didn't sound so bad right now.

His eyes finally landed on the TV. A local news story interrupted the constant livestreams of the aftermath of Sokovia. Some guy in a homemade Halloween costume saved a child who ran out into busy traffic. Tony stepped forward, his attention slowly developing interest as they played a security camera's catch of the scene. The guy _swung in _over oncoming traffic and scooped up the child like he was Tarzan.

The news reporter, live on the scene, held the microphone for the mother of the little girl. "I'm just so grateful that there are people looking out for others in the world," she said, half-crying. Her daughter, grasped tightly in her arms, looked innocently up at her mother, as if unaware of how close she was to death. "I don't know who this hero is, but I want them to know that I couldn't be more grateful. They saved my little girl's life. They're a hero. Without a doubt, a hero."

A hero. Tony could use a hero in his life right now. A back-to-basics, saving-people kind of hero. It was nice to know that they still existed.

"This hero was unavailable for questioning, however, with his costume and heroism, I think it is safe to say that all of New York hopes that we will see him again," the news reporter said.

"Yeah," Tony said, "I hope we do."

* * *

Happy's fingers drummed against the steering wheel. Tony had a meeting he was already ten minutes late to (Pepper wasn't picking up his calls, or making it to board meetings, at all) and this traffic was something else. He caught Tony almost dozing off behind his sunglasses in the backseat. The old boss man's insomnia had gotten exponentially worse in the past few weeks, though he was loath to admit it. Happy never referred to it, besides making sure Tony had a large cappuccino when he walked out the door and plenty of energy shots he always asked for hanging out in the glove compartment. "Sorry, boss," he said to the front rearview mirror. "New York traffic, amiright?"

"Hmmm." Tony's head lulled to the other side. "I knew I should've flown today." He didn't mean it. It was hard to don the suit, lately. That which he normally couldn't leave alone was strewn across the lounge. The guilt when he looked at it held back the heart he had for it.

His bloodshot eyes squinted through his designer shades. What was that whizzing across Manhattan traffic like George of the Jungle? And what was he swinging with? What kind of material was it? It had strength, snap, flexibility—

One second Tony was inside the car, the next Happy looked in the back to make a quip to his boss and cursed. The backseat was vacated.

Tony stood with a hand on the open car door. He whipped his shades off to fully take in what he was seeing. Some homemade red and blue costume, but this guy had crazy upper body strength, a knowledge in his slinging. He passed over Tony's head, and despite himself, let out a childish, happy WHOOP!

Tony almost laughed. That wasn't a guy under there. That was a kid. That was a kid with some kind of heart. A homemade costume combined with some innate killer skills, and the want to _help _people.

Wasn't that something?

The suit could use work. But the kid inside the suit—if he had all that heart already—

Tony wanted to know who the kid was. In such a mess of a world, it was nice to know that there was someone out there trying to protect it.

Happy lowered his window and hissed, "Tony! Get back in the car!"

Tony waved a hand to quiet him, earning him a scoff from Happy. "Hey, see that?"

Happy, sighing, looked. "That's a little original. Usually they're just copycats."

"No, I don't think this guy's trying to be like me," Tony said. He played around with an idea in his head as he donned his sunglasses. "Track him down for me, figure out who he is; okay?"

Happy was about to scoff and be like, Boss, _no_, but then Tony just got back in the car. With no argument, Happy made a mental addition to the endless to-do list he kept up for Tony Stark and said, "Will do."

* * *

"The kid's name is Peter Parker," Happy said, dropping a file on the workshop's counter. They were in Tony's new office in the new Avengers' facility he just unveiled to the rest of the guys. (They didn't hate him. On the outside he remained aloof and cool, while on the inside, he felt nothing but relief.)

Tony looked up from the program he was fine-tuning. B.A.R.F. was coming along nicely, while its acronym was not. "Go on, please; don't leave me in suspense, Happy," he said, rounding the workspace to pick up the file.

"From Queens, lives with an aunt in a two-bedroom apartment. Needs a new knapsack."

"All right, like where this is going so far," Tony said, thumbing through the pictures and paperwork Happy had compiled.

"Big computer nerd. He's smart. Enjoys technology and Star Wars. Wants to 'make the world a better place', according to one school news article." Happy tapped a certain paper with his finger. "Here's the paper he wrote on the biggest hero in his life."

Tony took this essay out. "'While the biggest inspiration in my life will always be my uncle Ben Parker, the man I look up to the most is Tony Stark, AKA Iron Man.'" Tony met Happy's eyes. "The kid wrote a paper about me."

"Yeah. I read it. He won't shut up about you. He thinks you being a superhero and the head of a tech company is the coolest thing in the whole world," Happy said. "Also, question: When did I become your secretary? Isn't Pepper usually the one who does your dirty work, in the office _and_ at home?"

Happy's joking tone disappeared like dust when Tony snapped the file shut. "You know Pepper and I are having trouble in paradise right now, so if you could maybe just not mention it, that would be great," Tony huffed, not meeting Happy's eyes.

"Yeah, of course," Happy said seriously. He not only annoyed his boss, he ruffled his friend's feathers. He was quick to smooth him over.

"Thanks," Tony said, suddenly looking up. "Thanks for doing this for me."

Happy had no idea why his billionaire boss had any interest in this kid from Queens, but he nodded just the same. "No problem, boss."

* * *

"The September Foundation. Wasn't that the foundation you and Pepper talked about starting?" Rhodes asked as he and Tony strode down the halls of the facility. They were going to meet Natasha at the new training gym, see how the new kids on the block were coming along.

"Yeah. Well, it's started, and she's technically the unofficial head and everything. . ." Tony said, trailing off. "Well, okay, is the _official _head, but. . ."

"Tony." Rhodes stopped. "She's _still _not returning your calls?"

"I think it's safe to say she hasn't quite forgiven me yet," Tony said, looking straight at the wall. "You know, I'm just a self-sabotaging idiot who can't let something go well for two seconds without destroying it."

"Her words or yours?" Rhodes wondered.

"Mine, but it's heavily implied that that's who she believes I am right now," Tony said. He sighed and leaned his head against the wall. He was glad they stopped, stopping walking, stopped so he could think. There was little vacancy in his head these days: between the guilt over Sokovia, the underlining current of guilt from nearly destroying this team he pretended he could live without but actually couldn't, getting shunned by the love of his life, and trying to figure out a way to recruit this eager, optimistic high school student, he'd been thinking a lot about his parents. Their final days. His relationship with his father. How much he missed his mother.

They would be gone twenty-five years this December. It still hurt every day, like it just happened yesterday.

He darted between these occupying thoughts these days. They filled and overwhelmed his mind. He spent nights figuring out the bugs of his expensive hobby—he really should see a doctor about some sleeping pills instead of working on rewriting the script of the past at 4 AM.

He wanted one more kiss on his cheek from his mom. He wanted his dad to _be _there for him when he was a kid, when he was a teenager. He inherited all his wit, resourcefulness, and intelligence. He also inherited all his outward cold flippancy, stubbornness, and selfishness.

Still, would've been nice if his dad had been his _dad_. He didn't want to _be _him. He just wanted to _have _him.

"Well, _I_ think you're a self-sabotaging idiot, but I don't think I'll abandon you _quite _yet," Rhodes said.

Tony raised his head from the wall with a half-smile. "Ah, thanks, buddy. You _do _care."

Rhodes slapped a hand on his shoulder and entered him back into their walk. "So, the September Foundation. You're really going to issue grants to college students?"

"Yeah. College students, anyone who wants to try their hands at making the world a better place." Tony suddenly had a vision; some people just needed money to start their dreams; others just needed a well-equipped suit. They needed money? Fine, he had plenty. But a well-equipped suit couldn't be provided by just anybody. It was a good thing the kid had him.

He needed a new project to work on until 4 AM. B.A.R.F. was practically done, anyway.

* * *

Happy wondered if this was a good time for Tony to meet Peter Parker for the first time. The Avengers were crashing in on themselves; a deep schism grew, dividing them onto opposite sides. Lagos made the Sokovian Accords which made the Avengers choose sides. Why was Tony Stark intent on dragging in this kid when Captain America was a fugitive to the law? Priorities.

Tony sat in the backseat, the kid's new suit in hand. He replayed the video camera footage from YouTube for the seventh time since he entered the car. (Nobody wanted to see Iron Man zooming around right now.) The kid could hold back 3000 pounds of a going-45-MPH vehicle, saving a bus full of people.

Tony played his tongue against the inside of his cheek and tapped his polished shoe against the car floor. He had to get rid of all this nervous energy, even as his body was exhausted. This entire ordeal was exhausting. Steve had seen it in his face; he was so tired of all this.

Now was the time to ask the big question: Did Peter Parker want to be a superhero? Not just your friendly neighborhood hero, who did little bits and pieces, which, while good, were still small on a worldwide scale? Did the kid want to make his mark on this world? Wanna join the Avengers?

These were big questions for a fifteen-year-old. They weren't even the big reasons why Tony wanted this kid to join him. There were deeper, more personal reasons.

Tony remembered being seventeen-years-old and glowing in ingenious technology he surrounded himself with, enjoying it in his soul. _He _had the money and the means back then; but he didn't have a father. Not really. Especially not after 1991.

Peter Parker didn't have the means, but he had the soul for it. He was smart, and wanted knowledge, wanted to help people with his tech. And if he couldn't help people that way, he'd help them in other ways, even if those other ways involved swinging around New York traffic in goggles and a saggy costume.

Tony had found Ben Parker's obituary. The kid was an orphan, living with his aunt. Probably a loving aunt, but just an aunt just the same. The kid didn't have a dad.

And Tony had been living in the past for far too long. Been saturated in guilt and pessimism and regret for far too long. He saw this kid, and he saw two things, one he recognized and one just newly discovered. He saw his past self, but without the pessimism. No, this kid was nothing but full of optimism. He was the kind to always get back up again, no matter what.

(If he reminded him of Steve Rogers, Tony pushed the thought away.)

Tony needed all the allies he could get. And something told him this kid wouldn't pass up the chance to get to be a superhero on a worldwide scale. He would make sure nothing happened to the kid; he was fifteen-years-old, for Pete's sake; if he brought on this kid who thought the world of him and the kid ended up getting hurt or worse . . . how would he honestly _ever_ forgive himself?

Happy parked in front of the apartment complex. "Have at it, boss," he said.

Tony took a deep breath and emerged from the vehicle. He didn't have a whole lot of time right now. With Ross breathing down his neck and the clock ticking on bringing his old partners in, he wore a couple more burdens than he usually did. Still, he couldn't help smiling. Donning his sunglasses, he looked up and found the floor the kid lived on. "All right, Mr. Parker," he said to himself, "show me what you're made of."

**So I just realized that there is literally no Tony and Peter actual interaction in this fic at all, and I am okay with that. :D**

**Thanks for reading! Review?**


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